


Undercover

by Old_Friends_Bookends



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fake Marriage, M/M, There's a killer on the loose, and he is killing gay couples, mystrade, so guess who goes undercover?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-21
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-13 16:53:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2158170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Old_Friends_Bookends/pseuds/Old_Friends_Bookends
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes going undercover requires you to go under the covers. </p><p>In recent weeks, three gay couples that were married, were murdered in their beds. The attackes were brutal but no trace was left.</p><p>Greg and Mycroft go undercover to find out who it is and why. Feelings are discovered and things are about to change forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Plan of action

"No. No. Absolutely not!"

"But Mycroft-"

"No. Why must I?"

"It's for a case!"

"Use John!"

"John is married!"

"Exactly!"

"Mycroft, this killer is praying on married gay couples. John is married to a woman. Surely you know the difference?"

"Then you go undercover? You and Gregory?"

"Who is Gregory?! You and Lestrade must do this! It's a matter of importance!"

"You--......... fine. If Gregory Lestrade agrees. You owe me. Big time."

 

{oOo}

 

"What? Sherlock...... What?"

"It's simple, Lestrade. Even you could understand it!"

"Go through it. One more time." "You go undercover."

"Y'see, I understand all that. What I don't understand is that I have to marry your brother!"

"Not really! God. I wouldn't punish you that much!"

"Why would that be punishment? -- never mind. Is he going to do it?"

"...... yes. He said you have to agree too. Because the diet is going well and he wants to show off to his crush."

"Who is his---oh."

"Lestrade? Why is your face red?"

"It's not!"

"Yes it is--"

"Shut up! I'll do it!"


	2. Moving In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Greg and Mike' move into their brownstone house in the middle of the cul-de-sac. The place was lovely enough, children played on the streets and gossipy women stood on street corners watching everything that happened.
> 
> Mycroft had never seen anything so sickening in his entire life. But he could do this. He could live with his crush, pretend to be married and wait until a serial killer made an attempt on his life.

Greg gently carried both cases up to the door of the new house. It seemed normal enough, there were no obvious cameras; mind you, Gregory never knew where the cameras were at Baker Street. He would just idly meander along, doing whatever he wanted, he wouldn't play up for the cameras. Hurrying inside, he left the cases at the door and stared wandering around the large home in some feeble attempt to find Mycroft. This place was big enough for his entire family, Greg thought. Who even needs this many rooms? 

Mycroft meanwhile, was already in the house. He brushed his fingers over the metal kitchen appliances; a quiet hum of approval leaving him. Absentmindedly, he thought about whether or not Greg liked to cook. Would he make nice meals for them? Would Mycroft attempt to cook with him? He had visions of them baking, Greg having flour in his silver hair. 

"Ah," Greg wrapped his arms aroumd Mycroft's waist, effectively snapping him from his sickeningly domestic daydream. "Here you are," Greg purred. Mycroft's cheeks started to heat up, his eyes narrowed on the offending limbs around his slim waist. "Gregory, what are you doing?""We have to act like a couple don't we?" Greg whispered into Mycroft's ear and Mycroft's knees went weak; it didn't matter what he was saying, it made Mycroft melt like a teenage girl. "Oh--ah. Yes. Smart thinking."

Greg laughed and pulled away, hand scrubbing through his hair. "How about you put away out clothes because you have to have it perfect and I go pick up food." Mycroft dipped his head but nodded all the same. "Italian?" Greg asked as he grabbed his coat and the money left on the counter. "My favourite!" Mycroft chuckled and turned to the fridge. He pulled out a bottle of ice tea and headed up the stairs with the cases as Greg made the small trip to the Italian take away joint.


	3. Trouble in paradise?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg returns from grabbing food. Awkward times ensue.

Greg spent the drive back from the takeaway place juat revelling in the scenery; it really was beautiful. Everyone's gardens seemed to have blossoming flowers and trees with a variety of fruit growing on them. He thought about planting trees and flowers with Mycroft. What would Mycroft even wear? Would he know how to garden? Greg was chuckling heartily by the tome he approached the brownstone. 

As he opened the door he was humming a soft tune to himself. He slipped out of his shoes and stood in something wet. "Myc?" Greg called out, still busy daydreaming. Yet another wet patch. "I've got the foo- did you mop up or something?" Greg chanced a look down and instantly flipped into detective mode. Blood. He pulled out his service weapon from the 'secret hiding place' and followed the track of blood. Slowly and carefully he made his way up the stairs, his breathing equal in spite of his pounding heart. Had the killer come already? That wasn't his M.O. but sometimes things change don't they?

He burst through the bathroom door of the en-suit, gun held high, "Mycroft?! Police! Hands up!" It took a moment or two for Greg to realise that the only other living thing in the room was in fact Mycroft. And that Mycroft, while being very much alive and umharmed was also very very naked. He would have laughed at the fact that Mycroft had actually put up his hands; however, in putting up his hands, Mycroft had actually dropped his towel. Greg had never really thought about Mycroft as anything other than a friend. But as his eyes scanned over Mycroft's naked form (spending a considerable amount of time staring at his cock) Greg was starting to get ideas.

"Gregory!" Mycroft practically screeched, scrabbling to grab the towel in an attempt to conserve what little bit was left of his modesty.

"I-uh-.." Greg's brain suddenly decided that words were a stupid thing. Babbling noises were the way to go.

"I would ask if that was a gun in your pocket or if you are just pleased to see me but..." Mycroft joked awkwardly, tightly securing the towel around his skinny waist.

"B-blood. Yours?" Greg mumbled, struggling to get his mind around the fact that he had seen Mycroft Holmes naked, and liked it!

"I dropped a glass and cut my foot. Luckily I didn't poor any wine before it happened. I decided I'd have a shower."

"Wine?"

"For dinner. You did get dinner didn't you?"

"Yu-.... yeah! Italian!"

Mycroft shook his head and tried his hardest not to blush any more.

They stood there awkwardly for two more minutes before Mycroft cleared his throat and looked expectantly at Greg. 

"Go. Now!" He squealed, wet body now drying. Mycroft thought it was from the body heat his blush was producing. 

Without another word, Greg practically ran out of the room and down to the kitchen. He tool a few deep breaths before pouring them both wine.


End file.
